Rosa smiled.
“Oh! yes,” she said.
“Enough?” asked Cornelius.
“I have three hundred guilders.”
“Oh! if you have three hundred guilders, you must not send a messenger, Rosa, but you must go to Haarlem yourself.”
“But what, in the meanwhile, is to become of the flower?”
“Oh, the flower, you must take it with you. You understand that you must not separate from it for an instant.”
“But whilst I am not separating from it, I am separating from you, Mynheer Cornelius.”
“Ah! that’s true, my sweet Rosa. Oh! good Heavens! how wicked men are! What have I done to offend them, and why have they deprived me of my liberty? You are right, Rosa, I cannot live without you. Well, you will send some one to Haarlem-that’s settled; really, the matter is wonderful enough for the President to put himself to some trouble. He will come himself to Lœvestein to see the tulip.”
Then, suddenly checking himself, he said with a faltering voice,—
“Rosa, Rosa, if after all it should not flower black!”
“Oh, surely, surely you will know to-morrow, or the day after.”
“And to wait until evening to know it, Rosa! I shall die with impatience. Could we not agree about a signal?”
“I shall do better than that.”
“What will you do?”
“If it opens at night, I shall come and tell you myself. If it is day, I shall pass your door, aud slip you a note either under the door, or through the grating
